


Fools and Kindness

by Bridgr6



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2020-03-07 23:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18883360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bridgr6/pseuds/Bridgr6
Summary: Tyrion ponders the pleasant changes in King’s Landing after Daenerys takes the Iron Throne.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fluff piece that takes place in a happier, alternate universe where Jorah doesn’t die and Daenerys takes the Iron Throne...peacefully-ish. I figured I should post a joyful fic since my last one was a bit somber. I love Tyrion and Jorah. I also love the relationship between Jorah and Dany, regardless of physical love. I hope you enjoy! I apologize for any and all mistakes/grammatical errors. Please leave a review and let me know what you think! I will see you all after the finale...

Tyrion huffed out a sigh as he finally found Daenerys. She stood on the stone balcony overlooking the courtyard. It had been much easier to find her when they had lived in Meereen and Dragonstone. Tyrion had nearly forgotten how large King’s Landing was. Sometimes it was painful for him to wander around the castle he had lived in for so long, but not on that particular day. The sun was shining, his queen was smiling, and all was well in Westeros.

“Looks like everyone is enjoying the sunshine,” Tyrion teased as he came to a stop at Daenerys’ side. She seemed to be in a pleasant mood as she observed the activity in the courtyard below. Daenerys turned and greeted him with a wordless smile.

Tyrion turned his head to glance down the balcony and could see two knights of the Queen’s Guard lurking in the shadows. Tyrion’s brow furrowed as he noticed Ser Jorah was nowhere to be seen; an unusual occurrence as the Lord Commander rarely left his queen’s side. 

Tyrion returned his gaze to Daenerys, whose eyes were bright with mirth as she continued to stare down into the courtyard. Tyrion stepped closer to the railing of the balcony and peered over the edge. Tyrion followed Daenerys’ gaze and felt a smile form on his own lips.

Ser Jorah was standing in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by a group of young boys. Ser Jorah had removed his white cloak, but still wore the black armor Daenerys had gifted to him when she named him Lord Commander of her Queen’s Guard.

Tyrion’s smile widened as he realized Ser Jorah’s Valyrian steel blade had been replaced with a wooden sword. 

The children surrounding Ser Jorah all had wooden swords of their own. The boys took turns trying to best the Lord Commander in single combat. Ser Jorah was gentle as he challenged his opponents with strikes of his own. 

Ser Jorah’s blue eyes were bright with amusement and the shadow of a smile tugged on his lips as one boy nearly tripped over his own feet. 

Tyrion rarely saw Ser Jorah with a smile on his face, so the expression was a welcome change. Tyrion watched as the local boys decided to shift their tactics by tossing their swords to the ground. 

Weapons discarded, the boys ran at Ser Jorah as a small army. Two boys leapt onto Ser Jorah’s back as another dangled uselessly from his arm in an attempt to disarm him. One of the more clever children dove for Ser Jorah’s legs, trying desperately to drag him to the ground. 

Ser Jorah laughed before he finally relented and dropped carefully to his knees. He then fell onto his stomach, careful not to crush any small children. 

Noting the success of their comrades, two more children rushed towards Ser Jorah and joined the pile, successfully burying the Lord Commander. 

The other children and a few adults in the courtyard broke out into cheers and laughter. 

After more giggling and victorious chanting, the boys rolled away from Ser Jorah and allowed him to get to his feet. 

“Bravo! Marvelous! Lord Commander Mormont defeated at last!” Tyrion couldn’t help himself as he clapped loudly. Young faces beamed up at his praise, while Ser Jorah brushed the dirt off of his chest and legs. 

Tyrion grinned down at the man he now considered a dear friend...gruff as he was. Tyrion saw many similarities between Jeor and Jorah Mormont, beyond appearance and title. Tyrion admired Ser Jorah’s simple kindness. Tyrion’s own father had often referred to kindness as a fool’s weakness. Tyrion felt that kindness was the victim of manipulation far too frequently. Painful history had forged a personal belief that their world would be a lot better off if more people loved selflessly.

Jorah’s genuine care for his men and the common people had helped solidify Daenerys’ success in King’s Landing. Tyrion somewhat envied Ser Jorah’s ability to level with Daenerys when times were tough. 

Tyrion glanced sideways at the woman in question and couldn’t help but smile at the glazed-over look of affection in her eyes as she watched her closest friend. Dare he say there was love mingled in her warm gaze? 

Tyrion chuckled as the children begged Ser Jorah to stay for one last fight. One of the nearby knights handed Ser Jorah his white cloak as he strapped Heartsbane to his hip. Ser Jorah bowed to the boys and congratulated them on their victory in battle, which seemed to appease them.

Tyrion felt pleasantly at ease with it all. King’s Landing was more lively and successful than it had ever been in his lifetime. The stench of starvation and poverty had disappeared from the streets slowly, but steadily over the past months. Tyrion often found the Queen herself walking the streets of King’s Landing, occasionally pausing to interact with the common people. Of course, Ser Jorah accompanied her to ensure her safety. Although Daenerys was loved by many, there would always be rebels who desired chaos and violence.

Tyrion had recently heard an interesting rumor among the chambermaids that towards the end of these little excursions, the Queen and her knight could be found strolling slowly through the gardens together. 

Glancing one more time at the warm affection in Daenerys’ eyes as she watched Ser Jorah, Tyrion had no doubt the rumors were true.


	2. Comforting Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys uses the simple comfort of a nightly routine to escape the stress of her new life in King’s Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hadn’t planned on adding to this story...let alone so soon, but I got so much positive feedback and it motivated me. Thank-you to everyone for your words of praise! 
> 
> This chapter follows the same timeline as the previous one, but they are not necessarily linked...if that makes sense.
> 
> I resisted the urge to make the joke: “Daenerys uses the simple comfort of a knightly routine” in the summary, so be proud. Get it? Knightly...like nightly...ha. 
> 
> Anyway...I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

Daenerys released a weary sigh as she stared up at the dark ceiling of her bedchamber. Too many thoughts cluttered her mind, pushing back the sleep she craved. She pondered future consequences and past mistakes as she lay in the dark. It was a small price to pray as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she supposed. 

Daenerys had many routines in her new life, including long council meetings, gatherings with the common people, and visits from the many lords and ladies of Westeros. It was no secret that she did not enjoy many of these duties. The political niceties of leadership held no interest to her, but she considered them necessary. She took pride in her duties as queen. 

There were not many routines throughout her days that she looked forward to, so she valued the few she did. One of the routines she was most fond of was not even her routine at all, but that of her Lord Commander and closest friend. 

Each night, as she lay awake dreading the internal battle with her thoughts, she waited for familiar footsteps outside her bedchamber. 

At nearly the same time every evening, she could hear Ser Jorah’s boots striking the stone floor as he patrolled the hallways of her tower. Daenerys didn’t need to open the door to see who the footsteps belonged to...no one walked as soundlessly or gracefully in armor as Ser Jorah did. 

No matter how exhausted she was, Daenerys’ body seemed unable to relax until Jorah’s steady footfalls passed her door. 

Once her knight walked past her bedchamber, she would lay back onto her pillows and close her eyes. Daenerys would count slowly in her head until she heard Ser Jorah’s path cross near her doorway a second time. Daenerys always reached the same number in her count by the time Ser Jorah passed by again. Somehow, the consistent sound of her Lord Commander’s footsteps and her own mental counting eased the roar in her head and lulled her to sleep.

Daenerys did not know how many times Ser Jorah walked the winding hallway each night because she never stayed awake beyond the third pass. 

Daenerys had never questioned Ser Jorah about this particular nightly routine. She knew he walked the halls to check on his men and ensure no danger lingered in the dark shadows of the night. She doubted he knew how much she had come to rely on it. Sometimes it unsettled her how Ser Jorah could comfort her without deliberate intent. She found a safe assurance in his presence. Daenerys didn’t like to contemplate her dependency on Ser Jorah too often. She was a queen and while it was important to seek council from those closest to her, she could not rely too heavily on them. Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew Ser Jorah was the exception. Their long history had woven itself into a shared life that she treasured. 

Just as her thoughts started to dig into the depths of her emotions, she heard the first approach of footsteps. Daenerys released a small sigh of relief as she rested her head back upon her pillow. She closed her eyes and began her count, escaping the darkness of her mind once again.


	3. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been a long journey for all of them, but they had finally found their home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this one is fluff...so much fluff, you’ll drown in it. It takes place on the first night that Daenerys and the crew stay in King’s Landing after taking the Iron Throne. I had to include Missandei cause she is a precious angel. 
> 
> I am so grateful that so many of you are enjoying my stories. I will do my best to continue earning your praise. I am open to requests! Please review and let me know what you think. As always, I apologize my grammatical flaws...

Missandei hesitated as she stared at the unfamiliar knight. He was a northern soldier who had volunteered to become a member of the Queensguard at King’s Landing. 

Ser Jorah must have noticed her apprehension because he spoke up from beside her, addressing the young knight.

“Ser Yaten, I will stand guard outside Missandei’s bedchamber this evening. You will stand with Ser Podrick outside the Queen’s chamber,” Ser Jorah instructed. The knight appeared confused by the change in orders, but nodded wordlessly and left.

Ser Jorah turned to Missandei and regarded her warmly. He did not smile with his mouth, but his blue eyes were bright with kindness. 

“Missandei, if you need me, I will be right here,” Ser Jorah nodded towards the wooden chair outside her door. 

Missandei forced an agreeable smile to her lips. She felt more at ease with Ser Jorah standing guard on her first night in King’s Landing. Missandei doubted she would find sleep, but she would not have to remain alert in her awakened state. She trusted Ser Jorah completely and considered him a good friend. She knew he would keep her safe through the night, should anything happen. 

Missandei released a weary sigh as she lay upon her new bed. She had not slept since the battle against the Night King’s Army...not since she had lost-

Missandei squeezed her eyes shut and refused to drown further in her grief. Torgo Nudho would not want her to wallow in self pity over his death. She would be brave and strong as he had always been.

XXXXXXXX

Ser Jorah stiffened as the door to Missandei’s bedchamber opened. He relaxed as he saw it was Missandei herself, exiting the room while dragging a wooden chair behind her. She smiled sweetly at him, looking exhausted and unsure. Ser Jorah could make out the dark circles beneath the young woman’s eyes and knew it had been many nights since she had slept. He understood her grief and felt his own sadness for her lost love. 

Missandei surprised him as she placed the chair beside him and carefully sat down, her gaze not quite meeting his. Ser Jorah smiled lightly as he stared at the wall opposite them, not wanting to cause Missandei any discomfort. He chose not to question her actions, understanding the desire to seek out human company in place of painful memories.

“You have been here before, Ser Jorah?” Missandei asked after a long moment of companionable silence. Missandei’s gaze followed his and they both stared at the dark wall across the hallway. 

“Aye, long ago...although, not much has changed,” Ser Jorah stated softly.

“It is much larger than the castles of Astapor and Meereen,” Missandei commented. Ser Jorah was quiet for a moment as he considered his response. 

“I remember arriving in King’s Landing for the first time as a boy. I was in awe of these towering stone walls back then. I had thought our castle on Bear Island was large, but this...you could walk these hallways a hundred times and still remain lost,” Ser Jorah replied. 

Ser Jorah felt Missandei’s curious gaze as she turned to study him. 

“Will you ever return to your home?” she asked gently. Ser Jorah turned his head to face her.

“My definition of home has changed over the years. Although my past mistakes have been forgiven, returning to Bear Island would not be the same. Some things in life cannot be undone,” Ser Jorah stated, his tone slightly somber. Missandei nodded in understanding, her brown eyes warm with sympathy. There was another long stretch of silence.

“Ser Jorah, could you tell me about your island?” Missandei asked, her voice tentative. 

Ser Jorah allowed his mouth to spread into a genuine smile as he nodded. He knew Missandei was looking for an escape from her painful reality..even if it was only a temporary distraction. She couldn’t sleep because her mind would not allow it. 

“I’m afraid Bear Island is not a land of much wealth or grandeur,” he started, his voice dropping in volume as his eyes shifted back to the wall. He could almost see his old home painted on the stone slabs in front of him. “Its true glory lies with the people and the beauty of nature. The winters can be brutal, but the summers are rewarding. The wildlife is almost equal to the human population and I spent much of my youth hunting in the forests surrounding our home. There is a calmness I found beneath the tall evergreen trees that I have yet to discover elsewhere...the way the wind shifts through the trees and rustles the grass can make a man feel as though he is the only person in the world-“ Ser Jorah’s voice caught slightly as he felt a light weight rest on his armored shoulder. He peered out the corner of his eye without moving and realized Missandei’s head had come to rest on his shoulder, her eyes drifting shut. He smiled softly, but continued his story as if he had not been interrupted. “When the snow finally arrives-,” Ser Jorah’s voice was the only sound echoing through the hallway. 

XXXXXXXX

Daenerys walked slowly down the stone corridors of her new castle. Her eyes studied the walls and floors, familiarizing herself with the place that had become her new home. She had stared up at the ceiling of her bedchamber for far too long. It was unsurprising she was unable to sleep in this foreign place.

Upon exiting her bedchamber, she had been surprised to see two unfamiliar faces standing guard in place of Ser Jorah. She had hoped he was outside her room as she had often enjoyed his company on dreamless nights. 

Daenerys turned down the last long hallway of the tower and stopped in surprise. 

Sitting outside Missandei’s bedchamber was none other than Ser Jorah himself. Daenerys felt her face soften into a smile as she regarded the familiar dark hair of the person sitting beside Ser Jorah. 

Missandei was fast asleep, her cheek resting against Ser Jorah’s shoulder. Daenerys took slow and quiet steps towards her two closest friends. 

Ser Jorah sat motionless, his eyes shifting to Daenerys as she came into his field of view. Daenerys smiled affectionately at him and he rewarded her with a tired smile of his own.

Daenerys motioned to Missandei’s bedchamber silently and Ser Jorah nodded in understanding. Daenerys stepped towards the door and carefully opened it while Ser Jorah shifted in his chair. He slid his hand behind Missandei’s knees and lifted her into his arms. He stood slowly, not wanting to wake the sleeping woman. 

“Ser Jorah, you forgot the castle-” Missandei murmured sleepily, her rambling confusing to Daenerys.

“Ahh, of course, the castle-,” Ser Jorah murmured, understanding Missandei’s barely coherent words. “As I said, it was not a large castle, but it felt like home,” Ser Jorah spoke quietly as Daenerys held the door open for him to step into the room. “Although it was cold outside, the castle was always warm,” Ser Jorah continued speaking, his voice lulling Missandei back to sleep. Daenerys let the door shut quietly behind them before she slipped past Ser Jorah and pulled back the blankets of Missandei’s bed. “The smell of burning timber drifted through every stone corridor-,” Ser Jorah carefully lowered Missandei to the bed and stepped back as Daenerys covered her with the furs. Daenerys took a short moment to sweep Missandei’s hair from her face in a warm display of affection. Satisfied that her dear friend was peacefully asleep, Daenerys followed Ser Jorah out of the room. 

Once Missandei’s door was secure, Daenerys turned to face Ser Jorah, who stretched his shoulder discreetly. 

“She has not slept in many nights,” Daenerys said, her grief for Greyworm sweeping through her heart. Ser Jorah nodded in agreement. 

“It can be difficult to sleep in an unfamiliar land, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, Your Grace” Ser Jorah stated, his eyes falling to her knowingly. Daenerys smiled softly. He had a way of always understanding her troubles. It spared her the pain of having to voice her weaknesses. 

“I’m sure Tyrion is sleeping soundly,” Daenerys joked as she moved towards the wooden chair Missandei had vacated.

“Aye, with the tender help of wine, Your Grace,” Ser Jorah replied, his eyes glimmering with amusement. Daenerys waved her hand in invitation towards the chair next to her as she sat down. 

Ser Jorah hesitated for a moment before sitting beside her. Daenerys let out a content sigh and allowed her head to rest against the stone wall behind her. 

Ser Jorah had always been good company, even in his silence. She could understand why Missandei had sought his company in her desperate search for sleep. Both his presence and voice were comforting and familiar. She could recall many nights in the past when she had fallen asleep listening to Ser Jorah’s stories of Westeros. It all seemed like a lifetime ago. 

“This feels like both the beginning and the end of our journey,” Daenerys voiced a thought that had occupied her mind from the moment they had arrived in King’s Landing. Ser Jorah nodded thoughtfully.

“It’s the end of one chapter and the beginning of a new one, but the story is still yours, Khaleesi” Ser Jorah’s words were reassuring and her heart warmed as he used her old title. She turned her head towards the man she considered her dearest friend, her protector, and her family.

“The story is still ours, Jorah,” she corrected gently, her eyes bright with all of the love and affection she felt for her knight. 

Their journey had started with a shared desire to find home. Strangely, they had found home in an unfamiliar place. It had become clear to Daenerys that the home she craved was not a physical structure, but the people she loved most. 

They had formed their own family: her, Jorah, Missandei, and begrudgingly, Tyrion... all broken pieces of different families that somehow fit together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...I’m sorry for killing Greyworm in this story, but it was necessary. Plus, he is the one of the few who survived the show, so...I don’t feel quite as bad :) don’t kill me, please. Also, thanks for reading!


	4. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shortly after taking King’s Landing, Daenerys and Ser Jorah discuss his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know it has been a while and I apologize! I wrote and rewrote this chapter sooo many times...trying to put my crazy thoughts into words. Let me just say that the struggle was real. I am a frequent passenger of the struggle bus :)
> 
> The events of this chapter take place before most of the other chapters, so please forgive me for writing these out of order...I have no control over my brain. 
> 
> I have another (fluffy as all heck) chapter ready to go, so I should have another update posted in a day or two! I hope you enjoy this chapter and please let me know what you think! As always, I apologize for any/all mistakes.
> 
> Thank-you so much to everyone who has reviewed this story so far! I appreciate all of the feedback!

“Those are quite possibly the most imbecilic words you have ever spoken, Mormont,” Tyrion stated bluntly.

Daenerys nearly ran into Tyrion and Ser Jorah as they stood on the exterior balcony facing the main courtyard of the Red Keep. She only managed to catch the tail end of their conversation, but Tyrion’s words piqued her interest almost immediately.

“What are?” Daenerys asked with an amused huff. She was not at all surprised to hear Tyrion harassing Ser Jorah, but the small man’s words were not laced with their usual wit or humor.

Both men immediately turned towards her as she spoke and a foreign tension settled around them. Tyrion managed to maintain a neutral expression while something akin to guilt flashed across Ser Jorah’s face. Daenerys felt her smile fade slowly as her eyes darted between her two advisors. 

“Mormont was just informing me of his brilliant idea to become the new Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Your Grace,” Tyrion spoke calmly and the man in question shot him a menacing glare. Daenerys watched irritation and anger roll off of Ser Jorah in waves. Her knight’s back was unusually stiff and his blue eyes had all but frozen over. This did not seem to bother Tyrion, whose favorite pastime was toying with her knight’s patience.

Briefly distracted by the sharp edges of their demeanor, it took a moment for Tyrion’s words to register. Once the words echoed across her mind, Daenerys felt a heavy uneasiness form in the pit of her stomach. She fought back an immediate surge of desperate anger, but allowed her fiery gaze to shift to her knight. 

“Leave us,” Daenerys ordered, her eyes holding Ser Jorah captive as she addressed Tyrion. Surprisingly, Tyrion acquiesced with a silent nod and swiftly disappeared from the open stone corridor. 

Whereas Tyrion had ignored Ser Jorah’s cold glare, Ser Jorah had the decency to look apologetic beneath her scorching one. 

“Your Grace, I-“ Ser Jorah spoke on the end of a weary sigh - his left hand firmly gripping the pommel on his sword, while his right hand twitched anxiously at his side. 

“No,” Daenerys stated immediately, her tone an unsteady blend of defiance and exasperation. 

It was clear neither of them was prepared for the conversation and a dazed silence fell between them as they both readied themselves for battle. A long time had passed since their last quarrel and Daenerys felt as though she had more to lose in this fight than she had in previous heated discussions. 

Daenerys was not sure if Ser Jorah’s request to serve as the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch made her want to laugh or cry. It was a foolish notion that she would not entertain. The thought of sending Ser Jorah to take up his father’s former position had never crossed her mind. 

A part of her feared the day Ser Jorah decided to return to Bear Island because she knew she would be unable to refuse him. It would be selfish of her to order him to stay when he had already sacrificed so much for her. Ser Jorah’s current request was different though. Daenerys would not allow her knight to ride off to the North just so he could mope in self pity with the other exiles. She knew him well enough to know that he had no true desire to serve at Castle Black. Daenerys did not understand why Ser Jorah was so interested in a self-imposed banishment. If he truly wished to return to the North, she would not stop him, but she would not allow him to go in a misguided act of martyrdom. 

Ser Jorah opened his mouth to speak, but closed it wordlessly. It was clear he had not been expecting her blunt response and was working to formulate a suitable rebuttal. Daenerys would not give him the opportunity. 

“I told you before, I wish to appoint you as the Lord Commander of my Queensguard, Ser Jorah,” she stated, her chin tipped up confidently and her voice steadier than before. 

“Aye, Your Grace, but I have no right to such a position,” Ser Jorah stated, his eyes ducking hers as he shifted on his feet. It was Daenerys’ turn to be speechless. She felt her mouth drop open in disbelief.

“No right? How can you say that?” Daenerys sputtered, her temper rising quickly. “If the man who has stood by my side since the beginning, who believed in me when no one else did and repeatedly saved my life at the risk of his own, cannot serve as the Lord Commander of my Queensguard, then who can?” Daenerys scoffed, her voice growing louder with each word. Ser Jorah’s eyes had claimed a solid hold on the stone floor beneath their feet.

“Your Grace, the mistakes of my past-“ Ser Jorah started, but Daenerys quickly cut him off.

“Are exactly that - the past, Ser Jorah. I have forgiven all of your previous transgressions and you have received complete pardons from the North,” she countered, unable to keep the hint of a desperate plea from her voice. 

An unbearable silence fell over them as she waited for Ser Jorah’s response. Doubt started to creep its way into her mind. Did he think she no longer needed him? Did he want to leave her?

Daenerys’ harsh tone and anger faded as Ser Jorah lifted his head and she caught sight of the agonized expression he had attempted to keep hidden. She hated the self-loathing and shame that caused Ser Jorah’s strong shoulders to slump in defeat. It was as if he needed to deem himself unworthy before someone else had the chance to...the thought broke her heart. Ser Jorah was more than worthy to stand by her side. Guilt swelled in her chest...she had been spoiled by his devotion and had taken his presence in her life for granted. 

Daenerys closed the distance between them and dipped her head in order to pull Ser Jorah’s gaze back to her.

“How much more must you suffer before you forgive yourself, Jorah?” she asked softly, deliberately bypassing his official title. 

Ser Jorah’s azure eyes flashed with a sadness she had never been privy to before. Had she blinked, she would have missed the regret and shame that maintained a tight grip on her knight’s heart, choking off his own happiness. 

“I would serve you well in the Night’s Watch, Your Grace,” he said, his voice steadier than before. Ser Jorah clasped his hands in front of his waist and tipped his head back as he schooled his expression. How many times had he successfully hid his pain from her? How often had she overlooked her closest friend’s suffering? Apparently, her knight wore his armor both externally and internally. Her expression softened into an affectionate smile. Ser Jorah’s noble selflessness was both endearing and incredibly irritating. 

“I know you will serve me well no matter where I send you, Ser Jorah, but I do not wish to send you away,” she admitted as her eyes caressed the strong edges of his jawline. Her fingers mindlessly followed the movement, brushing over his skin delicately. “Your place has always been by my side - stay here, Jorah, stay with me,” she pleaded softly. Her eyes flickered between his, searching for the response she so desired. Her hand slipped from his cheek to rest upon the metal armor shielding his heart. “We have traveled far, but we are finally home.” 

She knew her battle was well-fought and won as Ser Jorah’s eyes grew bright with the warm devotion she had grown so accustomed to, but he remained silent. 

“You know I won’t be able to survive Tyrion on my own. If you’re not here to stop me, he will be dead before the next moon,” Daenerys added, gently chipping away at his resolve with a soft smile.

Ser Jorah released a chuckle that rumbled through his chest and vibrated against her fingertips. She grinned proudly at having elicited the rare sound.

“I think it will be you preventing me from killing him, Khaleesi,” Ser Jorah quipped, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Daenerys’ smile widened at his use of her former title. It was pleasantly familiar and felt like the vocal representation of their bonded history.

Daenerys linked her arm with Ser Jorah’s and gently urged him to walk beside her down the long balcony. Daylight was fading and she wished to enjoy the cool breeze that had replaced the uncomfortably warm air of the afternoon.

“I could always send Tyrion to serve in the Night’s Watch,” Daenerys pretended to consider the idea. She glanced sideways at Ser Jorah, who had shortened his stride to better suite her leisurely pace. His arm remained bent towards his chest while her hand maintained its place in the crook of his elbow.

“Your Grace, I believe those poor, young men are suffering enough at the Wall; there is no need for further punishment. Besides, criminals would start begging for death sentences,” Ser Jorah commented, his eyes bright with amusement and just a hint of mischief. 

Daenerys felt her own happiness bubble over into a genuine laugh. It had been a long time since she had felt so relieved and carefree. She knew there were difficult times ahead, but they would endure together. Ser Jorah’s unyielding faith in her had long ago forged the confidence needed to survive. What her knight failed to understand was that she drew much of her strength from his presence.

Sneaking a second sideways glance at Ser Jorah, Daenerys silently promised him that she would do a better job of showing him how much he was needed.

XXXXXXXX

Less than one moon had passed since Ser Jorah agreed to remain in King’s Landing and all felt right in Westeros. 

There was a joyful hum in the air as Ser Jorah knelt before Daenerys in the Great Hall, once again vowing to serve and protect her until the end. Daenerys felt an overwhelming rush of pride as she placed the traditional white cloak across Ser Jorah’s broad shoulders and appointed him as the Lord Commander of her Queensguard. Tears blurred her vision while she stared down at the man she called her greatest friend. 

Daenerys was proud to name Ser Jorah her protector. He had silently held the position since they had met, but now she would ensure everyone knew of his loyalty and bravery. She was overjoyed to think that when the Seven Kingdoms remembered her, they would also recall the strong knight who faithfully stood by her side from beginning to end. Their fates would remain intertwined for as long as memory allowed. 

Ser Jorah stood slowly and suddenly all words escaped her. Daenerys felt an unfamiliar flutter in her chest as she tilted her back to stare up at her new Lord Commander. The sunlight bursting through the large glass windows of the Great Hall cast her knight in a dreamlike glow and she was held captive. The bright light danced in the deep, blue hues of Ser Jorah’s eyes and highlighted the handsome lines of his face. There was a strong contrast between the shadowed edges of his black armor and the white fabric billowing down his back. Daenerys barely resisted the temptation to reach out and touch the Targaryen sigil etched into the front of his armor. Her sigil served as the tangible representation of his fealty. 

A few days prior, Daenerys had given Ser Jorah the black armor as a gift and now seeing him in the armor she had designed made her heart stutter a few beats. Her eyes admired the strong bears carved into the metal protecting his shoulders. She had specifically requested his sigil be represented on the armor. Daenerys did not want Ser Jorah to bury his past because it had brought him to her. It was perhaps selfish of her to be grateful for his previous mistakes, but she couldn’t bring herself to be sorry...she could not imagine a world where their lives were not intertwined. 

They had traveled so far together. Daenerys was no longer the young woman who had risen from the flames in Essos. This time, it was her turn to feel suspended in awe as she took in the strength and elegance of the man before her. History and personal experience had taught her that loyal, kind, brave men did not exist in their world, but there Ser Jorah stood; a true representation of all she thought impossible. 

Daenerys’ feelings towards her knight were not without complication. A part of her had always known that she loved him, but the emotions she felt stretched beyond what she understood to be true love. 

Daenerys loved Ser Jorah more than a woman desired a man and differently than a woman adored her family. She only recently realized that her love for Ser Jorah had crept beyond her heart and settled in her soul. He was her family, her friend, her most trusted advisor, her strongest warrior, and her greatest love...he was everything.

Daenerys didn’t know how to express her feelings to him. Perhaps one day she would find the right words, but until then...Daenerys would cherish Ser Jorah’s presence in her life and find peace in the home they had forged together.


	5. A Simple Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys decides to seek out Ser Jorah for some quality time alone, but things don’t initially go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!
> 
> Im back with another fluff chapter! I struggled a bit with this one, so I apologize if Dany and Jorah seem OOC. It is difficult to write them blissfully happy because...well, that isn’t a side of them we see a lot of in GOT.
> 
> Side note: I’m starting to write a full AU story for Dany and Jorah, but I’m not going to post anything until it’s complete. I do plan on writing more of these brief glimpses into their life at King’s Landing. Let me know what you think! Also, feel free to send me requests for future chapters! I’ll do my best to deliver.
> 
> Once again, thank-you for all of your support! I hope you enjoy this chapter! As always, I apologize for any/all grammatical mistakes :)

Daenerys felt a smile tug on her lips as she walked the worn path from the Red Keep down to the shore. The weather was warm once again and the sunshine seemed to elevate everyone’s mood. She took a deep breath of crisp morning air and basked in the freshness of the ocean breeze. Something about the soft sounds of water lapping onto the beach calmed her. 

Daenerys had deliberately woken up early to make the short journey and although she did crave the serenity of the sea, her destination revolved more around a person than a place.

Sure enough, tucked into the stone cliffs of the beach, she spotted the person in question. 

Ser Jorah sat with his back against a large rock, one foot bent and braced in front of him and the other extended straight out. Unsurprisingly, his gaze was fixed on a leather-bound book clasped in one hand. His sword belt lay beside him and he wore only a black tunic and breeches in place of his heavy armor. 

Ser Jorah spent almost every morning in the same secluded location. His quiet nature flourished in the silence that lingered before everyone awoke and the day began. Daenerys wondered if the beach reminded him of Bear Island. Some days she felt like she knew everything about her knight and other days, she felt like she didn’t know him at all. It was more his past that she was unfamiliar with. He was a private man and she did not want to dig at partially healed wounds. Daenerys simply wished she knew what thoughts swirled around his mind. Sadly, the devotion in his blues eyes often shielded her from the other emotions that lay beyond his selfless love.

Daenerys pulled away from her thoughts and stepped onto a nearby rock, entering Ser Jorah’s peripheral vision. His eyes immediately lifted and widened slightly in surprise. Recovering quickly, Ser Jorah’s mouth tipped into a smile and he closed his book...giving her his full attention. Daenerys couldn’t decide what warmed her more: the sunlight striking her face or the soft look in Ser Jorah’s blue eyes.

“I’m impressed you found me, Your Grace, not even Tyrion has discovered this location yet,” Ser Jorah stated as she made her way over to him. She had to cross a series of large rocks in order to reach the small crevice Ser Jorah occupied.

“Well, I know my Lord Commander better than Tyrion does,” Daenerys teased as her eyes remained fixed on her feet. She was frustrated by the way her sandals slipped against the rocks. Ser Jorah rose to his feet as he watched her approach.

“Careful, Khaleesi,” he murmured when she pressed her foot against a particularly rough edge. He walked towards her and extended his hand, palm up. Daenerys smiled gratefully as she stared up at her handsome knight. 

She quickly realized her mistake because as her gaze shifted, her balance faltered and her legs rebelled against her. Leather slipped across smooth stone and suddenly she was falling backwards. 

Daenerys awaited the pain of her back striking solid rock, but instead felt a strong hand encircle her wrist - stopping her fall.

Ser Jorah had leapt forward in order to catch her arm as she fell. He gently pulled her forward until she was able to steady herself again. Daenerys felt a sudden pain on the sole of her left foot as she put weight on it. Her free hand pressed into Ser Jorah’s chest for balance as she turned her injured foot in order to inspect the damage. The sharp rock had cut through her sandal and pierced her skin. Ser Jorah’s gaze followed hers and he grimaced sympathetically.

“Here, let me see, Your Grace,” Ser Jorah murmured as he helped her sit on the flat stone behind them. Ser Jorah crouched in front of her and tugged a strip of fabric free from where it is been tied around his wrist. He gently lifted her foot with his free hand and removed the broken sandal, setting it aside. Daenerys barely felt any pain as she watched Ser Jorah carefully wrap the fabric over her cut. She was distracted not only by the efficient movement of his hands, but also by the way he cradled her foot as though it were a precious gem. “The cut is not too deep, Your Grace,” Ser Jorah murmured more to himself than to her while he released her foot.

Daenerys nodded wordlessly before she placed a steadying hand on Ser Jorah’s shoulder and attempted to stand. She winced as she put weight on her injured foot. She felt the cut stretch painfully when her foot pressed against solid ground. 

Ser Jorah rose to his feet as she eyed her useless and broken sandal. There really was only one way she was getting back to the castle and it was in the arms of her Lord Commander. 

As if reading her thoughts, Ser Jorah grabbed his book and her discarded sandal. He passed them to her before stretching his arm out over the ledge to retrieve his sword belt, which he then secured around his waist. Ser Jorah turned back towards her and his eyes held hers for a moment, waiting for silent permission. She smiled softly and nodded.

Daenerys bit back a full grin as Ser Jorah slipped one arm behind her knees and the other around her back. He straightened and easily lifted her into his arms. Daenerys placed Ser Jorah’s book and the sandal in her lap, so she could loop her arms around his neck.

Daenerys felt the pleasant flex of muscles beneath her fingertips as Ser Jorah took long, graceful strides across the rocky shore. While his breathing was elevated, he did not seem nearly as out of breath as carrying another human would suggest. She figured he was used to the extra weight of armor. 

Daenerys often overlooked how tall Ser Jorah was, but in his arms, she felt further from the ground than she was accustomed to. 

Admittedly, Daenerys enjoyed the short trek back to the Red Keep. The pain in her foot was a dull throb and while inconvenient, it was not unbearable. Being carried to safety by her favorite knight served as a pleasant distraction. Ser Jorah’s gaze remained fixed on the ground ahead of him, while she studied him fondly.

“This seems easy for you, Ser Jorah, do you often carry injured and distressed women to safety?” Daenerys teased and Ser Jorah let out a low chuckle that was almost bashful. 

“I try not to make a habit of it, Your Grace,” he admitted. 

XXXXXXXX

Daenerys leaned back, her palms resting on her bed as she watched Ser Jorah clean and wrap her foot. Her knight was on one knee in front of her, his eyes focused on her wound.

“You should not walk until the cut has had time to heal, Your Grace,” Ser Jorah advised. Daenerys smiled playfully at the man in front of her.

“Is that an order, Ser Jorah?” she asked. Her knight looked up from his ministrations and Daenerys caught a glimpse of his barely concealed smile. Daenerys took great pleasure in eliciting small smiles from her stoic Lord Commander. 

“No, just wise advice, Your Grace,” Ser Jorah stated as he returned to his task.

Daenerys enjoyed watching him work. She also delighted in the feel of his rough, calloused hands against the soft skin of her foot. She held back a surprised giggle as his fingertips brushed a particularly sensitive spot on the side of her foot. Daenerys wondered what it would feel like to have his lips brush the same spot...she welcomed the brief fantasy instead of flinching away from it as she would have done in the past. She understood her feelings for Ser Jorah better than ever before and a part of her had already embraced them. She hadn’t acted on them just yet, but she knew the warmth in her chest would soon become impossible to keep contained. Each soft smile, kind word, and tender gesture increased her love for Ser Jorah, which already occupied a large portion of her heart. 

Daenerys was pulled from her musings as Ser Jorah finished wrapping the bandage around her foot. 

“Your Grace, the Maester should look at your wound before the end of the day,” he suggested, his eyes serving the gentle reminder with warmth. 

Daenerys tipped her head to the side as she met Ser Jorah’s gaze.

“You are quite commanding today, Ser Jorah,” she smirked, her eyes filled with mischief. A look of amused exasperation flashed across Ser Jorah’s face before he squeezed the uninjured pad of her foot affectionately.

“It is my job to ensure the safety and well-being of the Queen, Your Grace,” Ser Jorah stated. Daenerys’ smiled broadened and she traced a finger down his cheek. 

“You carry out your duties admirably, Ser Jorah,” Daenerys praised. “Thank-you.”

Ser Jorah’s azure eyes brightened under her compliment and she could’ve drowned in the love reflected back at her. 

The trance was broken as Ser Jorah released her foot and stood up.

“One of the guards will return with Missandei shortly, Your Grace,” Ser Jorah stated. “I will speak with Tyrion and see if today’s meetings can wait until after your foot has had time to heal,” he added with a meaningful look towards her bed. Daenerys would not admit it, but she secretly enjoyed his attentiveness and concern. It felt good to be cared for, especially by a man who she adored in return.

Just as Ser Jorah reached the open doorway, Daenerys called out to him.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Ser Jorah?”

Her Lord Commander turned to face her and she watched in amusement as his brow furrowed with confusion. Daenerys lifted his book with one had and waved it tauntingly. Ser Jorah released a sheepish huff of air and moved towards her again. Daenerys smiled coyly as she handed him the book, her fingertips deliberately brushing against his. Her eyes followed him until he departed the room.

XXXXXXXX

Daenerys entered her bedchamber a week later to find an unfamiliar bundle of cloth resting on her wooden desk. She frowned in confusion as she approached the mysterious lump. She carefully peeled back a corner of the fabric and inhaled sharply as her eyes landed on a pair of sandals nestled beneath. The tan shoes were beautifully crafted with identical dragons curling along the leather straps. The soles of the sandals seemed more sturdy than her previous pair. 

There was no note or indication of who had left the gift, but the flutter in her chest told her all she needed to know.

Daenerys’ cheeks ached from her wide smile as she eagerly reached for the sandals. She moved to sit on the edge of her bed and gently slipped them onto her feet. She was not at all surprised to find that they fit perfectly. The additional padding on the bottom of the shoe allowed for more comfort than she was used to. She bit her bottom lip in an attempt to stop her smile from growing, but she was absolutely giddy with happiness. As she rested her palms on the bed, she stretched her feet out and lightly tapped them together. She almost felt foolish for getting so excited over a simple gift - almost.

Realistically, it wasn’t just about the gift, it was about the thoughtful man behind it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had surprised her with a present for no reason at all. Too often, she received gifts as part of official business or simply from those who wished to earn her favor. Even as a young girl, she had rarely received personal gifts. Viserys had not been the most attentive brother and certainly had not gone out of his way to bring her joy. 

The idea of her gruff knight browsing for the sandals in the market made her heart swell with affection. Daenerys knew she would cherish the gift for years to come.

XXXXXXXX

Once again, Daenerys found herself meandering down to the shore with the secret hope of running into her favorite knight. It anyone asked, she was simply seeking out the tranquility of the sea...not that the Queen needed to explain her actions to anyone...but the Hand of the Queen was rather nosy. 

Daenerys was not even halfway down the first gentle slope when a familiar voice spoke from a few feet away.

“Good Morning, Your Grace,” Ser Jorah greeted as he pushed away from the thin tree he had been leaning against near the edge of the trail. Daenerys jumped slightly before her expression relaxed into a scolding smile. He held up his hands apologetically. “I did not mean to startle you, Khaleesi, but I thought perhaps you could accompany me down to the sea?” Ser Jorah’s suggestion was light and unassuming. He had worded the invitation as though he were in need of an escort, but they both knew he was there to ensure she did not repeat the events of her last adventure.

It was clear he had been waiting for her to pass by and seeing as he was her primary motive for making the journey, there was no reason for her to turn him away. Daenerys knew she could be embarrassed that spending time alone with Ser Jorah was the main purpose of her morning stroll, but his eyes were far too happy and his demeanor too carefree for her to summon the emotion. 

Instead, she reached out for him and slid her arm through his, practically hugging it to her side as they resumed their journey. 

They walked in a companionable silence, both content with the other’s presence. The walk took longer than normal, but Daenerys had no complaints...she was where she wanted to be. 

As they reached the shore, the rocky trail turned to sand beneath their feet. Daenerys gently tugged Ser Jorah to a stop and he glanced down at her in slight confusion. 

His concerned expression shifted into a soft smile as she used his arm for balance and slipped off her sandals - the same sandals he had gifted to her the day prior. 

Daenerys straightened and her eyes purposely met his as she reached for his arm again. Her sandals dangled from the fingertips of her free hand as they walked. She bit back a smile when Ser Jorah cleared his throat slightly.

“I’m glad to see you found a suitable replacement, Your Grace,” he stated, clearly referencing her new footwear. Daenerys’ mouth tipped into a sly smirk as she eyed her Lord Commander, who had resumed their languid pace across the sand. 

“Mhmm,” she hummed, humoring him as he feigned ignorance. “I am very fond of them,” she added with a meaningful look. 

Ser Jorah’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon ahead, but Daenerys did not miss the slight curve to his lips or the pleased glimmer in his eyes. She tightened her hold on his arm and let out a content sigh that blended perfectly with the calm movement of the sea.


	6. Let Me Hold You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys attempts to comfort Ser Jorah on a night where his past battles haunt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there! I'm just as surprised as you are to see another chapter added to this little collection, but I could not stop myself. This one focuses on Dany comforting Jorah, which is just heckin' precious. I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
> 
> As always, I must admit I am a flawed human, so any mistakes you find are of my own doing. I apologize ahead of time. :)

The coppery scent of blood surrounded Jorah as he moved quickly across the open field. The sound of his own unsteady heartbeat thundered in his ears, occasionally broken up by the pained screams of wounded men. He struggled to keep his sword raised, his muscles sore and stiff. The only part of his body that remained alert were his eyes, which scanned the battlefield without thought.

No more men ran at him with swords or spears, but he felt no relief. Too many bodies littered the ground around him, half-buried in mud and water.

Somehow Jorah felt both surrounded by battle and completely alone. He looked around for a familiar face, but found none...in fact, he appeared to be the only man left standing. His heart plummeted in his chest as he imagined his kin lying dead in the mud.

He dropped to his knees, his hands searching for the closest body. Jorah pulled a man from the heavy ground and rolled him over, expecting to identify a friend or foe. He let out a shocked gasp and fell backwards as he found the man was neither...it was if the dead man did not have a face and was nothing more than a sack of flesh and bone held together by cracked armor.

Jorah attempted to clamber to his feet, but felt himself being dragged deeper into the mud. He lashed out wildly as blood soaked hands rose from the ground, pulling him down on their return to the grave.

The heavy sludge slipped over Jorah and his breathing became panicked through suffocation.

Peering up towards the sky, he noticed a familiar figure standing untouched and unharmed. It was his father.

Jorah instinctively opened his mouth to call out for help, but his father waved a dismissive hand.

"You are your own man, Son. Get up," his father spoke in a steady tone, his words issuing a direct order.

Jorah attempted to obey, but his arms and legs failed to combat an impossible weight.

"The burden of your own mistakes weigh you down and as always, you are too weak to deny them," his father's voice twisted into a disgusted scoff.

"Father, please," Jorah gasped out, his hand desperate to reach his father, who shook his head with disappointment and turned away.

Jorah fought harder as more hands pulled at him.

Faceless voices called out to him for help...begging him to save them. Couldn't they see he was trying? How was he meant save them when he couldn't even save himself?

"No, no!" Jorah's eyes flew open.

All at once, the weight, the battlefield and the voices were gone and a familiar room swam into view. His chest heaved as he sat up in bed, his panicked eyes searching the room.

Jorah closed his eyes and released a steadying breath as he recognized his bedchambers. He was serving his Queen in King's Landing, not fighting on some distant battlefield. He took a moment to refocus his mind in the present.

Unable to completely settle his shaking limbs, Jorah kicked away the furs that covered him and stumbled to his feet. The room suddenly felt too small and too warm. He grabbed a discarded tunic from a nearby chair and pulled it on, ignoring the beads of sweat covering his back and chest. Jorah moved quickly for the door, securing his sword, but bypassing his armor...he had enough heavy weight resting upon his shoulders for one night.

Jorah walked quickly down the stone hallways of the Red Keep, grateful they were empty due to the late hour.

His heart did not stop racing until he descended the outer steps and entered the gardens.

The fresh air immediately surrounded him and he inhaled deeply, letting the cool nighttime breeze wash over him like a wave. He reached out behind him and touched the cold stone of the wall encircling the garden. Jorah leaned his back against the solid foundation, closed his eyes and tipped his head up towards the bright moon.

The air around him smelled of wildflowers and roses, pleasantly replacing the acrid stench of war. Even more comforting...the ground beneath him was solid, unlike the mud in his dream.

The stillness of the night was a comforting echo in his ears, but only momentarily.

Jorah had been so desperate to find open space that he hadn't noticed the person entering the garden behind him.

"Ser Jorah, are you alright?"

Jorah jumped slightly, his blue eyes alarmed as they landed on his Queen standing only a few feet away.

XXXXXXXX

Daenerys walked the long hallways of the Red Keep on the way back to her chambers. She had fallen asleep in Missandei's room after her friend had drawn her a bath and braided her hair. Having awoken halfway into the night, Daenerys decided to make her way back to her own bed.

She waved her guards away, instructing them to walk the adjacent corridor. They would be nearby if she needed them, but she would also be able to enjoy a moment of privacy. There was only one man's company she desired over solitude.

A part of her had been hoping to make the late trek with Ser Jorah, but she quickly remembered he had the night off - a well deserved break.

Daenerys laughed quietly to herself upon realizing that she craved her knight's presence, even though he had been by her side for the better part of the day.

Distracted by her thoughts, Daenerys barely registered a moving shadow ahead. She jerked her head in the direction of the movement and frowned. She quickly recognized the tall figure as the very man she had been thinking of. She hesitated for a moment, believing her mind had simply conjured up the image of Ser Jorah...playing tricks on her through flickering candlelight.

Daenerys blinked hard and watched as her knight quickly descended the stairs leading to the garden. His hurried pace and the fact that he hadn't even noticed her had her following after him.

Stepping under the archway of the garden entrance, Daenerys caught sight of Ser Jorah leaning against the far wall, his eyes closed and his head tipped up towards the sky. Something about her knight's disheveled appearance and half-panicked demeanor compelled her to descend the stairs and step towards him.

"Ser Jorah, are you alright?" she asked gently, not wanting to alarm him.

Ser Jorah's eyes snapped open and he immediately straightened, surprise evident on his face.

"Khaleesi," her knight released a sound that was a mixture of an embarrassed chuckle and a relieved sigh. "Forgive me, I did not think anyone was awake at this hour," he regained his composure and his shoulders stiffened with formality.

Daenerys noticed he had avoided her initial question. She narrowed her eyes slightly and took a moment to study her knight more closely.

He appeared exhausted, yet his ruffled hair, untidy state, and bleary eyes told her he had recently awoken. Daenerys noticed he was free of his armor, but his sword was in place on his hip.

Ser Jorah's unfocused gaze and elevated breathing had her stomach twisting in knots of concern.

Daenerys took another step forward.

"You did not answer my question," she observed.

"All is well, Your Grace. I simply needed some fresh air," Ser Jorah attempted to reassure her. He held her gaze and clasped his hands together close to his waist, but she caught the way he shifted his weight - a telltale sign of his discomfort.

Daenerys' expression warmed and after a long stretch of silence, she turned and brushed her fingertips against an uneven row of blossoming flowers.

"I'm suddenly reminded of words spoken to me by a wise man long ago," she murmured, her back half-turned to Ser Jorah as she pretended to focus on the plants in front of her.

"Which words might those be, Your Grace?" Ser Jorah's asked curiously.

"No one can survive in this world without help" Daenerys stated as she plucked a crimson blossom from a bush and turned to face Ser Jorah.

Her knight's eyes widened in mild shock as she repeated his words back to him...words that had been spoken what felt like a lifetime ago.

Daenerys held Ser Jorah's gaze determinedly, her eyes softening in a silent plea.

_**I don't understand your pain, but I want to help.** _

Ser Jorah was quiet for a long moment, his mouth open as if ready to confess, but words seemed to escape him.

"I-I can't," Ser Jorah half-whispered, his eyes firmly set on his boots.

Daenerys had never heard his voice sound so broken. She was not sure if he was unable to speak of his troubles out of fear of reliving painful memories or of burdening her with old regret. Both notions made Daenerys' arms ache to reach out and comfort him, but she forced herself to remain immobile...waiting for him.

Ser Jorah finally lifted his head again and his face was a tragic blend of raw pain and haunted sadness. His blue eyes begged for forgiveness and understanding, while simultaneously struggling to hide the grief that was fighting to escape.

"Jorah," his name slipped from her lips quietly, her tone splintering into affectionate sympathy. "It's okay," she murmured gently as she closed the distance between them.

Daenerys tipped her head back in order to meet Ser Jorah's gaze again and watched his silent battle.

Her knight stood rigid...as if afraid sudden movement would cause the armor around his heart to shatter and every suppressed emotion and memory would be set free. It was clear that he would rather keep his past buried deep inside the internal prison he had constructed - the same prison he had unknowingly trapped part of himself in.

_**Let me help you, please.** _

Daenerys reached out and carefully slid the flower she had picked into the front fold of Ser Jorah's tunic. She smiled in satisfaction as the fragile blossom settled directly over his heart.

Ser Jorah stared down at the red flower silently.

Daenerys dipped her head and coaxed his eyes into a familiar dance where every thought that could not be spoken aloud was shared in silence.

_**Let me hold you.** _

Moving slowly, Daenerys lifted her arms to Ser Jorah's neck and gently pulled him down into her embrace. He went willingly, bending at the waist in order to accommodate their height difference, but his arms remained at his sides.

Daenerys carefully ran her hand up and down Jorah's back, pressing her palm into solid muscle in an attempt to ease their stiffness.

It took another pass of her hand before a shaky breath was released and as if an invisible string was cut, her knight relaxed into her arms.

Daenerys closed her eyes while Jorah's arms wrapped around her fully and his face pressed into the crook of her neck. She murmured words of comfort in High Valyrian...words she could not recall the translation for as they had only been spoken by her mother in distant dreams.

She did not break the embrace as she felt the slight tremors in Jorah's body...she simply held him tighter.


	7. Dreary Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of King’s Landing suffers a period of dreary weather, which leaves many people feeling somber and sluggish. Of course, Ser Jorah looks to brighten his Queen’s day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back again with a chapter of fluff. I can't help myself. There will be more soon (maybe some angst too ;) ) as I have quite a few ideas rolling into some vacation time.
> 
> Note of importance: This is dedicated to those who suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder as it was the main source of inspiration for the chapter. This time of year can be difficult for a lot of people living in cold and dark climates, so put an emphasis on kindness and look for ways to brighten someone's day. :)

Jorah released a puff of air and peered up at the early morning sky. He could already tell that it was going to be another dreary day. There were no orange or yellow hues painted across the sky to indicate the risen sun. Instead, a dull gray hovered on the horizon, seamlessly blending night into day.

Although the air was relatively warm, King's Landing had suffered several long days without sunshine. The prolonged darkness seemed to cast a shadow over the land and it greatly effected the mood of the people. It seemed every person, from highborn to commoner, had become sullen and sluggish.

Fortunately, Jorah did not suffer the adverse effects of the gloom. The darkness felt familiar and reminded him of long days on Bear Island where the mist covered water could be mistaken for clouds. Perhaps the dreariness of the North explained the melancholy nature of its people.

Jorah could recall a time when the bright sun of Essos had been a startling change. Having been painfully torn from his homeland, the cheery sunshine had felt mocking when compared to his internal misery.

Now, what truly troubled Jorah was the somber state of his Queen. It was no secret that Daenerys opposed cold weather and the rainy days seemed to remind her of time spent in Winterfell. Jorah could see the frustration building within Daenerys as each morning arrived and the sun failed to emerge from behind the clouds.

The stress of ruling over the Seven Kingdoms did nothing to aid the Queen's dismal mood and it showed in the defeated slump of her shoulders and the dark shadows beneath her eyes.

Jorah's heart ached for Daenerys, but as much as he wanted to reach out and comfort her, he knew it was not his place to do so. His options were limited, but Jorah was determined. It did not take long for him to devise a plan.

Jorah could not force the sun to reappear in the sky, but he had spotted a rare item down at the docks that would certainly bring a smile to the Queen's face.

XXXXXXXX

The difficult part of Jorah's plan came after bargaining with the coin-grubbing merchants. They owed him a few favors, so convincing them to sell the item for a fair price was rather simple.

The true problem Jorah faced was discretion. He wanted his gift to remain anonymous, if at all possible. Therefore, certain individuals could not be privy to his actions - mainly Tyrion.

Jorah could not lug his gift from the harbor to the castle without raising questions, so he was forced to wait until everyone was asleep before completing his task.

He hid the gift within the rocky cliffs close to the shore and went about his day.

XXXXXXXX

Jorah couldn't help but be temporarily grateful for the grim weather as almost every inhabitant of King's Landing collapsed into sleep early that night.

He quickly retrieved the gift hidden near the cliffs and moved quietly across the grassy slopes towards the Red Keep.

After walking only a few paces, Jorah noticed a strengthening wind coasting off of the sea. It provided him cover for both sound and movement as it rattled windows and tugged at trees. His shadow would be impossible to notice from high in the Red Keep.

Jorah's eyes searched the exterior of the castle for a familiar balcony. The placement of his gift was critical, but thankfully he had patrolled outside often enough to know exactly where it needed to be.

After gently laying the gift in the grass, Jorah walked to the nearby stables and retrieved a shovel. He began to dig the spade into solid ground, suddenly grateful he had not worn his armor or sword belt. Although his tunic was thin and the cool air bit at his skin unpleasantly, the ease of movement without the hindrance of metal was appreciated.

Less than one hour later, Jorah leaned back on his knees and admired his work. He was covered in dirt and his hands had long gone numb from gripping the cold metal handle of the shovel, but his task was complete.

Jorah smiled contently once more before returning the shovel to its shed and making his way towards his chambers.

Utterly lost in his own exhaustion and the blissful hum of success, Jorah did not hear the soft footsteps rounding the corner ahead of him. He barely had time to react as he walked straight into Missandei.

The young handmaiden's eyes reflected Jorah's own surprise and she failed to suppress a sharp gasp that bordered on a yelp.

Jorah's hands automatically reached out to prevent Missandei from tumbling backwards and he lightly caught her forearms. He watched recognition flicker across her face before she released a sigh of relief.

Once Jorah was certain the young woman was steady on her feet, he released his grip and politely retreated a step.

"Forgive me, Ser Jorah, I should be more mindful of where I am walking," Missandei's spoken apology was accompanied by a soft smile.

"I believe I am the one at fault, Missandei. I shouldn't blindly lumber around corners at night," Jorah replied, hoping his eyes returned her smile well enough.

Missandei's smile shifted to one of amusement and she gave an agreeable nod.

Their apologies were followed by an easy silence that had become common in their interactions. Neither of them were particularly fond of unnecessary conversation.

Unfortunately, in this particular instance, the silence provided Jorah's mind enough time to notice the dirt smudged on Missandei's sleeve - dirt transferred from his filthy hands.

The realization that he was covered in grime after wandering around in the dark, struck suddenly and Jorah scrambled for a distraction. It was too late. Missandei's pereptive gaze narrowed on his dirt covered form.

Jorah watched various questions arise in Missandei's expression as her eyes traveled from his tunic to his face and back again. He could do nothing more than plaster a weak smile across his lips and hope the rare expression eased her suspicion.

Missandei frowned in concern and her hesitation was almost amusing - almost. She opened her mouth before snapping it shut wordlessly, evidently deciding to leave her questions unanswered.

Jorah cleared his throat and straightened. "Would you like me to escort you back to your chambers?" he offered gently.

"Thank-you, but that is not necessary, Ser. I have only a short walk," Missandei explained. She studied him for a moment longer before her lips tipped into a polite smile and she bid him goodnight.

Jorah released a weary sigh, which blended into a chuckle...and a curse, before he resumed his trek back to his room.

XXXXXXXX

The following morning, Missandei opened the doors to the Queen's chambers with a broad smile, determined to start the day on a positive note. She was not at all surprised to see her Queen already awake. Despite the recent prolonged darkness of the mornings, the Queen awoke early. She and Missandei had a shared routine that was consistent and enjoyable.

Missandei's first task was to wash and braid Daenerys' hair, which allowed them time to talk and enjoy each other's company before the day began.

Once her hair was braided and she was dressed, the Queen always stepped out onto her balcony. It was her way of clearing her mind.

Recently, Missandei noticed a falter in her Queen's step when she walked outside and was met by the sunless sky.

Missandei hoped the new day would be different, but remained silent as Daenerys carried out this portion of her routine alone. The young handmaiden held her breath while the Queen stared out across the horizon. There was a sharp intake of air followed by a breathless laugh.

"Your Grace?" Missandei stepped towards her Queen in concern. Her words were met with silence, but Missandei watched Daenerys' expression brighten for the first time in far too long and suddenly the atmosphere around them shifted to something surprisingly pleasant.

Missandei's mouth responded with a smile of its own and she stepped forward to see what had captured her Queen's attention.

Daenerys remained silent, but her lips were stretched into a grin so wide that her fingertips pressed against it in an attempt to prevent it from spreading beyond its breaking point. The Queen drifted to the edge of the balcony as if in a trance. Rather than gazing up at the horizon, Daenerys' eyes remained focused on the ground.

Missandei peered over her friend's shoulder and followed her line of sight. The sky held nothing significant as it remained drab and gray, but Missandei's eyes caught on something much brighter and far closer to the ground. It was a tree - a medium-sized tree that stood alone and proud on the grassy slope just outside the castle. It was dazzling with its slender branches and blossoming leaves, but what truly drew her admiring gaze was the small yellow fruit beginning to grow.

"A lemon tree," Daenerys whispered, her eyes still attached to the tree as if they had grown from it. The Queen's tone held nothing but awe and tenderness and her eyes glimmered with a distant memory. There was more to the moment than a woman merely admiring a new gift, but Missandei was hesitant to pry at her Queen's privacy.

Instead, Missandei focused on the distant question nagging at the back of her mind. The image of the freshly planted tree slowly combined with memories of a familiar knight covered in dirt. Missandei smiled as she recalled Ser Jorah's shocked and guilty expression from the evening prior. She had been more worried than suspicious after running into him and now the truth of it all left her heart swelling with affection for the gruff man.

The idea of Ser Jorah combating the day's exhaustion and waiting to plant the tree at night - guaranteeing his Queen a morning surprise, but eliminating the reward of personal recognition - left Missandei anxious to inform Daenerys of their knight's selfless actions.

But as Missandei turned, ready to share this information, Daenerys spoke first.

"Have you seen Ser Jorah yet this morning?"

Missandei relaxed and allowed her eyebrows to raise in feigned ignorance. Apparently, the Queen did not need any assistance in identfying who had planted the tree.

"I have not, Your Grace. Would you like me to send for him?" Missandei spoke the words on the edge of a smirk.

Daenerys' eyes tore away from the lemon tree for the first time and met Missandei's gaze. All signs of weary sadness were gone from the Queen's face and all of the Seven Kingdoms seemed to breath a collective sigh of relief.

"No, no, I'll find him myself. I wish to speak with him - privately," Daenerys cleared her throat slightly, the warmth of her eyes giving away possible intentions.

After glancing outside once more with a look of dazed happiness, the Queen departed her chambers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lemon tree planted in this chapter is a reference to Daenerys' childhood in Braavos and her dream of returning to the house with the red door and lemon trees. Therefore, by planting the tree for Dany, Jorah is not only trying to brighten his Queen's mood, but is also attempting to make King's Landing feel more like home (that was my intent anyway lol). I like the idea of Dany immediately knowing Jorah planted the lemon tree...as if she has only ever shared that story/desire with him.
> 
> I deliberatly wrote Jorah's actions (planting the tree) as vaguely as possible because I wanted to leave the grand reveal for Dany's reaction...hold everyone in suspense. i apologize if that made anything confusing. Also, I don't know if a lemon tree would survive in King's Landing, but it's the thought that counts.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank-you for reading and drop a comment to let me know your thoughts!


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